


Maybe You'll Love Yourself Like I Love You

by lourryintheskywithdiamonds (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, M/M, Songfic, lots and lots and lots of fluff, you might choke on it oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lourryintheskywithdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry <em>really</em> loves Niall, but he doesn’t think Niall knows exactly how much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe You'll Love Yourself Like I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on - and title from - 'Little Things' by One Direction.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** I (sadly) do not personally know Niall, Harry, any of the other boys, or anyone affiliated with them. This is a work of _fiction_ , so please do not share this with anyone even the tiniest bit associated with them.

Harry _really_ loves Niall, but he doesn’t think Niall knows exactly how much.

Harry loves Niall’s body. He loves how, when Niall is lying, naked, before him, everything about him is so very _boy._ How all he can see is a hard chest and flat stomach and broad shoulders, and how everything is sharp, angular planes of muscle and bone. His fingers are short and thick, and the tips of them rough and slightly calloused from years of playing the guitar. Harry loves the dimples in Niall’s back, right at the bottom of his spine, and the way their hands fit perfectly together, as if they were made specifically for each other. Harry thinks that maybe they were.

Harry loves Niall’s skin. He loves the creamy paleness of it, and how he bruises so easily. He thinks it’s great how he can so effortlessly mark Niall, and how, if he does it in the right place, everyone will be able to see it for at least a week afterwards. (Harry is very possessive, and he knows it, but rightly so, he thinks. Niall is too nice for his own good, and can sometimes unintentionally give people the wrong idea.) He loves the freckles Niall’s skin is littered with, and the way he can trace his finger along them and join them up to make intricate designs. Even though he knows Niall hates it, Harry loves the light flush of red on his cheeks that never seems to quite disappear.

Harry loves Niall’s hair. He sometimes wishes that Niall would stop dying it, because he would look even prettier with his natural hair colour, but Harry would never ask him to change if it wasn’t solely for Niall and what he wanted. So he makes do with what he has, and often absentmindedly plays with it while they’re watching TV, him cross-legged on the edge of the sofa and Niall lying sideways across it, his head resting on Harry’s lap. Harry will thread and twist and weave it between his abnormally long fingers, enjoying the silky smoothness of it, and Niall will yawn and stretch out the entirety of his body. Sometimes Niall will look up at him and smile fondly, and Harry will smile back, just as fondly, if not more. And sometimes Niall will lean up, craning his neck to reach far enough, and kiss him chastely and sweetly on the lips. Then, he’ll settle back down onto Harry’s lap, shifting around a bit to get comfortable and they’ll both go back to paying attention to whatever is playing on the TV. It’s those little moments that are Harry’s favourites: the moments that are so simple and might seem like nothing to anybody else, yet they make his heart swell up and feel too big for chest. The moments that make him question how Niall is even real, how someone so perfect can legally exist. The moments that make him think _wow, I **really** love you._

Harry loves Niall’s cerulean eyes. They contain a whole range of different shades of blue, more than he could ever hope to be able to count, and he thinks that he’s never seen a pair of eyes that are more beautiful than them. He loves the way they contrast sharply with Niall’s porcelain skin, only making them stand out even more (as if they need it). Harry loves the way they darken the slightest bit when Niall’s aroused, but still never lose the mischievous sparkle in them. He loves the way they widen when he’s surprised and narrow when he’s confused. Harry doubts that he’ll ever get tired of the way Niall gets little crinkles at the sides of them when he smiles and the way they don’t ever fail to light up when they catch sight of him.

Harry loves Niall’s mouth. He sometimes catches himself unintentionally staring at it while Niall’s talking, but if Niall notices, he doesn’t mention it. Niall has a unique way of forming each word with his Irish lilt that he finds absolutely fascinating, and he just can’t get enough of it. Sometimes while Niall’s talking, his tongue will dart out of his mouth and quickly run over his lips, wetting them in-between sentences. That particularly mesmerises Harry.

But most of all, Harry loves Niall. Sweet, funny, carefree Niall who rubs Harry’s back when he’s exhausted after a long day at the studio and is scared of thunderstorms and who uses unnecessary exclamation marks in his tweets. He loves Niall who laughs too hard at everything and who’s overprotective over football players and whom Harry sometimes has to get to stop from cursing during meet and greets, because that would be highly inappropriate. He loves Niall who makes stupid faces at him from across the room when they’re in boring meetings and who refuses to play video games that involve violence and who keeps him up at night by talking in his sleep. Sometimes they argue, because Niall has terrible aim and he never tidies up after himself and he eats Harry’s food without asking, but in Harry’s opinion, these little imperfections are what make Niall so perfect, what make him so real and raw and beautiful. They’re what make him Niall. His Niall, who belongs to him and him only.

So when Niall starts crying because some people can be so _mean_ , Harry tells Niall just how much he loves him. And when the uncontrollable, choking sobs have calmed to occasional hiccoughs, Harry takes out the little red velvet box that he’s been carrying around in his pocket for weeks now, waiting for the right moment. Because Harry _really_ loves Niall, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more certain of anything in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr at lourryintheskywithdiamonds](http://lourryintheskywithdiamonds.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter at louisdidumeanno](https://twitter.com/louisdidumeanno)


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